Dulce et Decorum
by ObsessivelyOdd
Summary: Alex thought he was well out of the world of spies and soldiers, but with his friends still embroiled in the SAS, it was only a matter of time until he was sucked back in. And this time, the cost will be higher than ever before. SEQUEL to Pro Patria Mori.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Ok, so I couldn't wait until the end of FFH, mainly because I'm not entirely sure how long it's going to take to get there and you all seemed to be looking forward to this so much. So, here you go, the long-anticipated sequel to Pro Patria Mori. I just hope it lives up to expectations!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

_"Jaguar!" screamed a voice and Alex swung around, staring desperately through the smoke._

"_Bear!" he called, "Bear, where are you?" _

_The explosions were moving closer. He could hear rifle fire behind him. It was back up, but not for them. Every second brought the enemy soldiers closer. Alex had just a few moments to get them all out of there._

"_Jag! Over here!"_

_Alex stumbled on towards the voice._

_Suddenly, the smoke swirled away, and Alex jolted to a stop._

_At the edge of his toes, the ground gave way to a sheer cliff, sinking quickly away into black nothingness. _

"_Jaguar!" called a voice and Alex's gaze was drawn away from the ever-hungry abyss at his feet to where his teammate lay, unable to move, leg trapped under fallen rocks._

_There was a detonator in his hand. He knew without evidence that it would blow up the cliff where Bear was laying, helpless._

_He pushed the button._

_The cliff gave way and Alex screamed, Bear's own screams of betrayal and pain and hatred, echoing back across the chasm. But even that was better than the laughter, as Bear's face slowly morphed into another, twisted with a cruel smirk._

_Alex sobbed helplessly as his uncle tumbled into darkness._

He awoke with a gasp. The room was still around him, the slow, even breathing of his slumbering roommate, Mark, completely at odds with the way his heart hammered. Outside, a fox barked.

He forced himself to remember that Bear was alive. He could remember that mission. Bear had been trapped after an earthquake had opened up the rift, but he'd still manage to secure a rope and throw it to Jaguar. It had been the other cliff, the one populated with men who were trying to kill them, that Alex had detonated. He had done what he had to. He had not killed his teammate. Bear was alive. He _was_.

Alex shuddered and clambered out of bed.

The bathroom wasn't far, just down the hall, and Alex wasted no time in snapping on the light and stumbling to the sink.

He splashed the frigid water on his face and slowly leant his forehead against the cold glass of the mirror. He knew, without looking, that he looked a state. His face would be pale and bloodless and his lips would be tense. Bags would be purple underneath his eyes and a frown would be creasing his forehead.

He looked the same every time he had a nightmare. True, it wasn't happening much anymore – this one was the first in about a month – but that didn't stop his hands from shaking where they clutched at the sink.

Slowly, he drew in a deep breath, held it, and then let it out. He repeated this twice more. After the third exhale he finally felt calm enough to return to his dimly lit room.

His roommate stirred slightly, as Alex let the door fall closed, but he quickly settled back into the deep sleep that only teenagers can achieve. Well, teenagers that weren't Alex, at any rate.

From the looks of the sky – being woken by the sun was a preference the boys shared, thankfully, and so the curtains were open – it was several hours until dawn, but Alex didn't want to root around and find his watch to confirm it, lest he wake Mark. Either way, he knew he wouldn't be getting back to sleep tonight.

Sighing, he pulled a small torch off his bedside table and the book he was meant to be reading for English.

-o-O-o-

Mark was woken up by the loud ringing of the first bell and promptly fell out of bed, landing on the hard floor with an 'oomph'.

He glared at the quietly sniggering Alex, before his gaze softened at the sight of the other boy sitting fully dressed on his bed, a worn copy of Animal Farm resting on his knee.

"Another nightmare?" asked the boy, softly.

Alex grimaced slightly but nodded. The two boys had come to an understanding within a month of Alex arriving. Mark wouldn't tell anyone anything that Alex told him, and in return, Alex wouldn't lie through his teeth about what kept him up at night.

"Come on, you need to hurry up," said Alex, briskly. "Mr Williams will have your head if you're late to registration again."

Mark shook himself and hurried out of the room.

-o-O-o-

Twenty minutes later saw Alex and Mark sitting with three other boys, crowded around a plate piled high with toast and various pots of Jam, butter and nutella scattered around. Connor, a short, blue-eyed, pale-skinned Irish boy with a shock of dark hair cursed as he stuck his elbow in a pool of honey, which made Josh burst out laughing, mainly at the 'why me?' look on Connor's face. Alex didn't blame him, but was glad he'd kept to sniggers when Connor retaliated by swiping at Josh's thick-framed glasses with one honey-ed finger.

Ben, a broad shouldered, good looking black boy, rolled his eyes and snagged a piece of toast, before proceeding to innocently load it with a liberal amount of jam.

Alex's eyes narrowed suspiciously – Ben looked just _too_ innocent – and his eyes went to the plate. There was one piece left. His eyes darted to Mark, instinctively knowing his competition.

A hand darted forward, but Alex was already there, blocking it with the side of his knife. His other hand grabbed the toast, only to have Mark's spare hand grab his wrist in turn.

Alex glared and tugged, but Mark wasn't letting go. He twisted his wrist and pulled backwards and upwards, a basic wrist release he'd learnt years ago in karate. Unfortunately, the lack of space meant that Mark simply got tugged forward, his other hand grasping for the toast…

And the two of them crashed into Josh, sending all three of them to the floor, just as Mr Williams walked through the door.

"This is a school, not a zoo," commented the house master, flatly. "Please sit at the tables to eat, instead of rolling around like a bunch of animals."

The boys stilled momentarily, then began to scramble up, red-faced under the scrutiny of sixty amused pairs of eyes.

Halfway up, Alex snatched the toast from where it had fallen on Mark's chest and calmly began to butter it. There was most definitely not a smug smirk on his lips.

-o-O-o-

The first lesson of the day was French. Seeing as Alex had been fluent since he was about six, he found it ridiculously easy. The teacher had finally got the point when, in her third lesson with Alex, she had woken him up by slamming a dictionary down on the desk in front of him and asked him for his viewpoint on the death penalty – not something that would normally be covered on the GCSE syllabus, but she was convinced he would not know that the lesson hadn't been on that, seeing as how he had slept through the majority.

Needless to say, she was stunned when she received a carefully balanced, logical argument in flawless French, from the still mostly asleep teenager.

Five minutes later, she was scolding him for not telling her that he was fluent, and had passed him a copy of _L'étranger_ by Albert Camus. As long as he completed the homework to her satisfaction, she would not demand his attention in lessons which, quite frankly, bored him.

A week after that, he'd accidentally answered the homework in Spanish, and she had called him in to ask exactly how many languages he was fluent in. Upon hearing the full extent of his capabilities, she had begun tutoring him in earnest, and every week there would be a new book in any of half a dozen languages for him to read and then write an essay on.

This week, he was reading Harry Potter in Russian, and he was glad of the familiar storyline while struggling with the unfamiliar language. In the end he gave up, and asked the teacher if she had any Russian worksheets to help him along. She smiled indulgently and handed him a sheaf of paper.

"Teacher's pet," teased Connor from where he was struggling with the French pluperfect beside him.

Alex elbowed him gently in the ribs and turned back to the worksheets.

"So, football at lunch, yeah?" whispered Mark from in front of him.

"What is it with you two and that bloody game," moaned Josh.

"Like you don't go on and on about tennis in the summer," retorted Alex, before turning back to Mark.

"Yeah. Captain would kill us if we weren't there – only two weeks before we go up against the champions, remember?"

"Bloody Sevenoaks," muttered Mark, before hastily whipping around and returning to work as the teacher passed close by.

-o-O-o-

They were watching a film in English – they're teacher was off sick and so they had apparently tried to avoid the sub having to do any real work. It was a cheap, badly acted and even more badly directed, version of Shakespeare's Macbeth.

Ben and Alex spent the majority of the time quietly mocking the bad Scottish accents that apparently only half the cast had decided to put on, mangling Shakespeare's play even more than second-rate actors normally would.

Half way through the first act, the TV screen flickered, once, then changed.

Instead of a gloomy castle somewhere in Scotland, a small concrete cell, illuminated with a harsh electric light, appeared on the screen.

Alex swallowed and briefly closed his eyes before he forced himself to study the man held captive on screen. Relief swept through him as he failed to recognise him and then guilt, for feeling relieved.

The sub turned white and quickly unplugged the TV.

For the last three months, TVs all over the world had been dropping their usual programmes to broadcast the execution of an agent, or soldier. So far, eleven agents had died. Today would have been the twelfth. Five weeks ago, it had been Tamara Knight, and Alex had spent the following days in a daze of grief and shock.

That hadn't been anything compared to seeing the entire of C-Unit executed three days later.

All the TVs in the school were now unplugged unless they were in use, but that didn't help when the headlines always proclaimed what had happened the following day, and when videos popped up online, no matter how one tried to block them.

Someone was determined to see these executions publicised, and no-one knew why.

Turning the TV off had been pointless; they all knew what would happen. Alex could well imagine, miles away in London and around the world, intelligence agencies refusing to succumb to despair as they failed to stop another execution, or pinpoint the broadcast.

"Class dismissed," muttered the Sub to the silent classroom, and the students quickly gathered their bags, chatter already starting up again.

It was amazing, thought Alex, bitterly, what humans could get accustomed to when they were given no choice.

-o-O-o-

Chemistry began in dispirited silence, on Alex's part, with Josh and Connor throwing him worried glances. Of course, with neither boy sharing Alex's English class, they didn't know about the execution yet. Slowly, though, Connor, in his own slightly geeky way, charmed Alex out of his bad mood, by drawing him into an argument about Starwars. It slightly fell apart on him when Alex confessed he hadn't watched any of them, and made Connor mutter under his breath and lose concentration until he somehow managed to explode a beaker and cover himself, Alex and Josh in, thankfully harmless, green gloop.

Given how good Connor was at Chemistry, Alex was half-convinced it had been deliberate, but Josh's shocked face as he wiped the stuff off his glasses, muttering about honey, and impossible Irish imbeciles, made him start laughing despite that.

-o-O-o-

Football practice went well, for about half an hour, before the clouds, that had been threatening a downpour all day, broke, and the team was forced inside out of the torrential rain. Covered in mud, they trooped into the gym, Mark wringing out his hair with forlorn looks at his sodden locks.

"Get a haircut," grinned Alex, before turning to the coach. Behind him, Mark stuck out his tongue.

"Alright," yelled the coach. "No, don't sit down, you lazy rats! Short sprints, from one end of the gym to the other!"

The team groaned, but quickly fell into the gruelling drill.

They'd barely been at it for five minutes when the door opened and two sets of footsteps entered the gym. As one, the boys turned, only to be waved back to drills.

Alex ignored the coach, walking slowly towards the headmistress and the soldier standing next to her.

"Jackal?" he asked, quietly. "Why are you here?"

"Jaguar," said the soldier, heavily. "Can we go somewhere a bit more private? I'm afraid I've got some bad news…"

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, what did you think? I'll try and have the next chapter up within the next two weeks, but things are a little hectic atm because I'm just starting uni again. Give me a few weeks to get back into the swing of things and I should be able to be more regular with updates.**_

_**And remember, reviews are love!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Wow, 63 reviews for one chapter? I LOVE YOU GUYS. I'm sorry if I didn't reply to you, I always try to reply to as many as I can, but sometimes it just isn't possible. Anyways, here's the next chapter. I can't promise that there will be regular updates on this fic because uni has shot my updating schedule to hell, but I'll do my best.**_

_**First, though, a little note about this story. I've had a few questions about timing and why Alex is now at a boarding school. It's currently about 5-6 months since The last true chapter of PPM and about 3 or 4 since the epilogue. I'm not entirely sure how the timings work out, but it's currently March/April time and Alex is 16.**_

_**In the epilogue of PPM, Alex was in boarding school, and I thought it was clear but apparently not. I realised that with Wolf still being a member of the SAS he's not going to be able to look after a kid on a day-to-day basis, and so would most likely get him a place in a decent boarding school, while still acting as his legal guardian/parental figure. Hope this clears all that up.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise. And Connor was most definitely not based on Artemis!**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

They were in the P.E. office. Once, it had just been a forgotten space, apparently used by older couples who wanted 'alone time', but at some point in the past, it had been converted to a cramped study, little more than a filing room with a couple of chairs shoved in one corner and a dead potted plant. A rickety desk took up most of the space, surrounded, as it was, with filing cabinets stacked high with jumbled, unfiled paperwork. P.E. teachers weren't hired for their organisational skills, after all.

The headmistress was waiting outside, but Alex had a feeling that this had more to do with the lack of space than any real respect for his privacy.

"So what's wrong?" asked Alex, his mind flashing to Wolf, his legal guardian, or a member of D-Unit, lying unconscious in a hospital bed. He swallowed nervously and looked back at Jackal.

"D-Unit and K-Unit were stationed in Iraq three weeks ago," began Jackal, awkwardly. "They went missing last week. Yesterday, Leopard, Eagle and Mole turned up." He took a deep breath. "They were dead. I'm sorry, Jaguar."

No. No, there had to be a mistake. They couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible.

Distantly, Alex was aware that he really needed to stop panicking, that his breathing was abnormally fast, bordering on hyperventilation.

No. He needed to calm down. Focus on the living, on those he could help. Mole, Leopard and Eagle were beyond his aid, now.

Firmly, he pushed the pain into that deep, dark pit where he hid everything, to only come welling up out of the darkness in dreams.

"-guar? JAG!"

"Where were their last co-ordinates?" he asked, mentally running over what he knew of Iraq in his head. He'd been stationed there three times, in the year he had been in the armed forces – twice as a regular soldier, and once with the SAS – but that didn't lead to intimate knowledge of the place as a whole.

"They were last seen heading south out of the Zagros base. Last confirmed contact was about an hour later, crossing the river."

Alex glanced up. "They were on foot?" he asked, incredulously, as he calculated average speeds in his head.

"Yeah. Couldn't risk a jeep being seen. Helicopters were to make regular sweeps, and deliver supplies, but without drawing attention to them."

"Shit," cursed Alex. "Just what the hell were they doing?"

"I don't know," said Jackal. "It was need to know only. I don't think even the commander of the base knew."

"Fuck," swore Alex, standing up and striding purposefully out of the door.

"Jaguar! Where are you going?"

"I'm getting my stuff together. You'll give me a lift to London, won't you?"

They were passing through the gym now, the team still sprinting

"What? No! Jaguar, you can't do this."

Alex snarled and span, barely giving Jackal time to react before the soldier was slammed into the wall, pinned there by an angry teenager who had never seemed more threatening.

"Oh, really?" hissed the enraged blond. "And why not, exactly? They pulled me out of _hell_, risking their lives and careers to do so, disobeying _direct orders_ to do so. Do you think there is even a remote possibility I would be willing to do any less for them?"

"They're soldiers!" exclaimed Jackal. "They know the risks. They're _trained_ for this."

"And _so am I!_" roared Alex. "Or did you forget that little fact? I did exactly the same training as you, Jackal! I trained for the army, I trained for the SAS, I trained with fucking _Scorpia_ before either, not to mention my uncle grooming me for a life in MI6 – or something considerably less legal – since before I could _walk_. Do you _seriously_ think that I'm not trained? That I don't know the risks?"

Alex snarled silently as Jackal failed to answer and, giving one final shove, let the man go, turning on his heel and continuing to the exit, ignoring the stares of the football team. He didn't have time for them right now.

-o-O-o-

Ten minutes later, the room he and Mark shared looked as if a bomb had gone off, and Alex had enough experience with them to know. Clothes – including his SAS uniform, that he had managed to hang on to despite his abrupt dismissal - toiletries and what little money he had had been shoved into a holdall along with a small plastic back containing the few gadgets that Smithers had given him that he had managed to salvage, and the papers confirming his identity as John Sanders.

You never knew what could come in useful.

He was about to leave, when four boys burst through the door.

"What the hell is going on?" demanded Josh.

"That was fast," commented Alex, pushing passed them.

"Where the hell are you going?" yelled Mark, his eyes sweeping briefly over the trashed room before he hurried after Alex's retreating back.

"London, first off," said Alex. "I've got something that I need to take care of."

"And after London?"

"That's classified. Sorry."

"Classified, he says," exclaimed Connor, his Irish accent becoming thicker with annoyance. "Says who?"

"Says me," said Alex flatly, still not turning around.

By now he had reached the bottom of the stairs where Jackal was waiting for him, along with the nervously hovering football coach… and the headmistress.

She looked angry.

He drew to a halt in front the trio and first looked to Jackal. When the soldier stood immobile, Alex sighed and dumped his bag to the ground in preparation for whatever speech she had prepared.

"When you first came here," began the woman, looking at him with a mixture of compassion and austerity that made his skin itch, "you were a mess. You had nightmares every night. You barely ate. You couldn't stand being touched. You didn't trust anyone enough to become more than superficial friends with them. I don't know exactly what happened to break you, but I know that if you leave now, there's a very real chance that it will happen again. I realise that I cannot force you, of all people, to stay here, but I would ask that you reconsider. It is only this last month that you have really got back on your feet. Do you really want to return to that state?"

"I won't return to that state," said Alex coldly. "There is no possibility of that particular set of circumstances being repeated. But if I stay here, the chances are my closest friends _and my legal guardian_ will most likely turn up _dead_ and I can't let that happen."

"How do you know? What can you possibly do?"

"I'm the best," replied Alex calmly.

"Yeah, and you have an ego to match," muttered Jackal. Alex glared at him, but the soldier simply grinned.

"Glad you're not denying it any longer, at least," teased the teen, before turning back to the headmistress.

"And how do you know that it won't happen again?"

Alex's face went emotionless, the perfect poker face, as he struggled to stop lashing out at her.

"Because I have no family left to kill," said the spy, emotionlessly, before walking out.

Jackal cast one sorrowful look at the teachers and Alex's friends, all shocked-speechless.

"He'll come back," he promised. "I'll make sure of it."

Then he hurried after Alex. D-Unit would kill him if he let anything happen to the kid.

-o-O-o-

The drive to London was dull. The rain didn't let up, and the only scenery was the endless grey stretch of the motorway and muddy fields. Even the quiet drone and whine of the radio did nothing to relieve the boredom.

It seemed wrong, somehow, that his first mission in four months began like this. He simply could not sustain the anger and panic that had originally motivated him.

In its place, determination coiled, strong and certain, he_ would_ get them back, even if he had to barter his soul to the devil or, worse, MI6. It felt good to be making a difference again.

They entered the suburbs of London and Alex sat up, clicking his back with a lazy stretch.

"Where are we heading," asked Jackal, glancing across.

"Liverpool Street. I think it's time I paid a visit to some old associates of mine."

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: Erm, please don't kill me? Take all that enraged energy and use it to do something constructive instead… like review!**_

_**And… sorry? Did I forget to mention that the reason I did Ardent was because Eagle doesn't get much screen time in this? Sorry!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Hello everyone. Long time, no type. Sorry about that. Anyways, I have another chapter for you all, and, also, an announcement.**_

_**Those of you, who have read my story Reincarnation, will know about the Alex Rider Fanfiction Awards, but for those who haven't I'll start from scratch.**_

_**This year, we're having awards for the best fanfics in the Alex Rider section. You can all nominate fics, one nomination per person, per category. On the forum "The Royal & General Bank" there are threads for nominations for each of the categories. The deadline for nominations is Friday, and I hope you all go over there and nominate your favourites right after reading this chapter (and reviewing, of course!). After all the nominations are done, four judges, including me, will judge the fics. Obviously, if a fic of a judge is nominated, that judge won't have a say in the score of that story. The stories with the most nominations will go for a Reader's Choice Award, and a poll will be put up after the nominations have closed. Please go and have your say, or there won't be anything for us to judge! :(**_

_**Anwyays, thank you. And read on!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: As usual, I own nothing. Trick and Treat was surprisingly unrewarding on the rights-to-Alex-Rider front.**_

-o-O-o-

The bank hadn't changed. At all. That was… actually rather depressing, in an intangible, uncertain way that Alex couldn't quite determine the reasons behind.

There were the same stone floors, the same possibly-plastic potted plants at strategic intervals and the same brand of slightly confused customers, always wondering what, exactly, it was that made this bank so strange, constantly trying to place what was different about it. They even had the same damn secretary behind the desk.

"I'm here to see Blunt," he said, flatly.

"I'm sorry-" she began, only to be cut off by Alex's irate snarl.

"Don't give me that _bull_. Unless you've got a worse memory than _anyone_ could possibly possess, you _know_ that I know he works here."

She scowled at him. "Do you have an appointment?"

Alex scoffed, ignoring Jackal's uncomfortable shifting behind him.

"You don't get appointments to see Blunt. You get told to show up with five minutes warning. Unless you have the guts to demand to see him."

"Very well, do you have ID?"

Alex sighed and rubbed his forehead. "One sec," he said, dropping the bag that he was still carrying to the floor and rummaging through it.

"Will this do?" he asked, handing over his SAS ID. It was the best he could do. MI6 hadn't given him one. He doubted that they actually issued them, given the danger that could put someone in.

She glanced at it, then turned back to typing on her computer.

"Wait over there," she said imperiously, gesturing to a bench on the far side of the reception. "Someone will be with you shortly."

Shortly, it turned out, actually meant somewhere along the lines of in an hour, or sometime this evening, or whenever-the-fuck-we-feel-like. Whatever it had meant, it was dark when someone finally approached them, and the reception had emptied of all the customers.

It was a young man who came to them. Alex had never actually spoken to him, but he'd passed him more than a few times. He thought he was Mrs Jones' personal assistant.

"Mr Rider?" asked the man, with a polite smile, "My name is William. If you will please follow me?"

All too soon, and after far too long a wait, Alex found himself facing the two heads again. Jackal had remained downstairs, and for some reason, Alex felt himself missing the comforting presence at his shoulder. When had he become so dependent upon others?

"Agent Rider," greeted Blunt.

"I'm not an agent anymore, Mr Blunt," said Alex, politely, as he took a seat.

"Of course, my apologies. To what do we owe this pleasure, then?"

"K-Unit and D-Unit have disappeared," explained Alex. He was sure they knew, certain they had pieced together his motivations and already had their price planned. "I can't just sit idly by – not when they did so much for me."

"Of course you can't," said Mrs Jones, warmly. It contrasted sharply with the slight spasm in Blunt's face that implied that he would have been only too happy to let both units die, if only it had been _before_ they cost him his favourite weapon.

"I need weapons, transport and… information," he admitted, forcing himself not to lower his gaze from theirs. He wasn't a child to be manipulated any longer. Nor was he begging for a favour. He knew they would exact their price, their pound of flesh. It was simply a negotiation.

Blunt steepled his fingers. "You understand, of course, that MI6 has no jurisdiction over SAS units, and barely any influence since the events that spelled your… separation from us."

"I know."

"It would be no easy feat for us to acquire this information."

"I know."

From then on, it was just a question of bartering.

-o-O-o-

Alex was surprised to see Jackal still sitting in the reception when he went back down.

"Hey," he said, shooting the soldier a faint smile. "I figured you would have gone home by now – you live in London, right?"

"You weren't all that long," said Jackal with a smile. "Those bastards co-operating for once?"

"Sort of," said Alex with a one-shouldered shrug.

"Listen, kid, where are you staying tonight?"

Alex blinked, and cast his mind around for an answer. "I guess I'm going to go to Wolf's," he admitted after a moment.

"It'll be locked," pointed out the soldier.

"I can pick locks easy enough," said Alex dismissively.

"Why don't you just stay at mine?" asked Jackal. "I'd feel better knowing you weren't on your own, right now, and I know the guys wouldn't mind."

Alex bit his lip. He could imagine Wolf's flat: cold and dark and uninviting; nothing in the fridge or cupboards and every scene a reminder that Wolf wasn't there. It was a tempting offer. On the other hand, he had things he had to do tonight, things that Jackal certainly wouldn't approve of.

But, it wouldn't be that hard to sneak out of, surely? They weren't trying to keep him prisoner, after all.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the offer with a genuine smile. "Do you live far from here?"

"Not too far," said Jackal. "Come on, I'll show you."

-o-O-o-

It took ten minutes in the car. Alex had a feeling it would be quicker on foot, thanks to several potential shortcuts where the car couldn't go, but he didn't really care enough to ask.

The house itself was a pleasant, four-bedroomed affair spread over three floors. The ground floor was given over to an open plan living area, with a small room off it that seemed to be a mixture of a library, study and general sitting area. Apparently, the four soldiers referred to it as the snug, which he supposed was apt but still made him grin a little in amusement. It was in this small, cosy room where Alex would be staying – on a sofa bed that, when opened, took up almost the entire room. He was guessing they didn't have guests much.

But it was comfy enough; the mattress was so soft he very nearly gave up right then and there to spend the rest of the week in bed. It was a shame he wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

It was just the two of them downstairs when they got in, but by the time Alex had dumped his bag, Cougar had appeared from upstairs and Hawk and Otter had barged through the door with some groceries. All three slowed down considerably when they saw him, coming to a halt in front of him.

"Jaguar," said Hawk, quietly.

"Hey," said Alex with a brief smile.

"What are you doing here?" asked Otter. "You should be in school, shouldn't you?"

"Jaguar will be staying with us for a few days," explained Jackal, quickly.

"It's just while I get a few things sorted out," Alex reassured them. "Then I'll get out of your hair."

"That's not what I meant," said Otter with a sigh. "You're doing something stupid, aren't you?"

"No!" protested Alex, at the exact same moment as Jackal growled a 'yes' through clenched teeth.

Alex glared at him and Hawk sighed. "Come on," said the medic, grabbing the shopping. "We can discuss it over dinner. Want to help me cook, Jag?"

If he's honest, Alex really didn't feel like eating, knowing what he had to do later, but lying was all too natural to him, so he nodded amicably and followed Hawk into the kitchen.

Dinner was tasty enough, perhaps not up to Snake's – whose mother had been a chef and so had been cooking since he could hold a spoon without dropping it – standard, but it was filling and warm, and if Alex couldn't remember exactly what he'd eaten or what they'd spoken of, it passed unnoticed. It was only after they had all finished that the conversation turned to Alex's presence.

"So, why aren't you in school, then?" asked Otter, leaning back in his chair and eying the teen speculatively.

Alex shrugged. "My friends and my legal guardian have gone missing. I would have thought it would be obvious."

"You cannot be serious! You're going _after_ them? You have no idea where they are or who took them! You don't even know what they were doing!" That was Cougar, ever quick to speak his mind, sometimes too quick. He'd been disciplined more than once for not thinking before he spoke.

"And so you expect me to leave them to rot?" growled Alex, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Look, guys," said Jackal, dropping his forehead briefly into his hands before running his fingers through his hair and leaning back. "Me and Jaguar have already had this conversation. We can't stop him. We can only help him as much as we are able."

"Help me?" repeated Alex, nonplussed.

Jackal raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think I'd let you go alone, did you?"

Alex gave a slightly disbelieving smile.

"Thanks."

-o-O-o-

It was near midnight when Alex got up, still fully clothed and snuck out of the window. Jackal might have offered to help, but if Alex had his way, he would never know about this.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So what did you think? Review and tell me! And don't forget to go and nominate your favourite story!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: So, yes, in case you're wondering. I'm feeling guilty for not updating. Also, I'm bored because my friend is making me watch CSI: Miami, so I'm suffering through an hour of over acting, stereotypical characters and ridiculous and overly convenient plot devices. Oh. Apparently we missed a documentary on the colossal squid, which is irritating simply because we know so little about them and they're all mysterious. Anyways. Yes, onto the chapter!**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Hawk barely had time to pour himself a cup of coffee before the loud rapping started on the door. For a moment he simply stared in surprise – who would be calling at seven thirty in the morning, after all? – but he quickly shook his head and went to answer it.

He raised an eyebrow at the man on the other side. Seven thirty in the morning and the man was already wearing a suit.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I'm here to speak with Alex Rider," said the man, his voice bland, flashing an ID that had only a picture, an identity number and the words "Military Intelligence 6" printed on it.

Hawk blinked dumbly at him for a moment, before, with his voice still thick with sleep, "Who?"

"Alex Rider," repeated the spook impatiently.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" began the soldier, before Jackal interrupted him from the hall.

"He means Jaguar," said the soldier, before trudging through to the kitchen after a longing glance at the steaming cup held in Hawk's hand.

"Right," said Hawk. "Right. Of course. I'll… Would you like to come in? I'll go and get him."

-o-O-o-

With the agent, who had introduced himself as John Crawley, firmly ensconced in the kitchen, Hawk went to fetch Alex. The sight that greeted him upon entering the Snug, however, stopped him dead in his tracks.

"_What_ are you doing?" he asked incredulously, causing Alex, suspended halfway through the window to glance up in alarm and topple in slow motion onto the carpet with an 'oomph'. Moments later, the curtains, which Alex had desperately grabbed at to try and stave off the inevitable, landed on top of him.

"Bugger."

Really, mused Alex, it seemed the only fit response to the unfortunate series of events.

Hawk couldn't help but chuckle as he helped the young man extricate himself from the pile of hangings.

It was only when, between them, they had successfully managed the apparently-complex task that Hawk realised Jaguar was soaked through.

"So, unless you decided to take a shower fully clothed, I'm guessing you were coming _in_ through the window?"

"I just figured that the shower would mean I could wash myself and my clothes at the same time!" protested Alex, feebly.

"Nice try," said Hawk flatly, grabbing Alex by the arm.

"You've got a visitor," he said, gruffly. "And Jackal will no doubt be very… interested to hear about your escapades last night."

Alex winced.

-o-O-o-

"Caught Jaguar climbing back in through the window," said Hawk, scowling as he half-led, half-dragged Alex into the kitchen. "Apparently he thought sneaking out last night was a good idea."

Alex glared at him and tugged his arm free. "Look," he began heatedly. "Yeah, I'm fifteen, but that doesn't mean you get to dictate my actions. I'm neither five years old nor a complete idiot and you are _not_ my guardians. I really don't think it's any of your business if I sneak out."

He shifted, uncomfortably aware that he was a guest in this house and may just have crossed the line into rudeness. He hoped they wouldn't be offended – he genuinely liked B-Unit.

Jackal sighed. "I get where you're coming from," he said. Alex thought that he must have previous experience with teenagers – perhaps nieces or nephews or a younger sibling or something – because he was far too used to keeping his cool. "But seeing as you _are_ only fifteen, currently without a guardian and I have volunteered to take charge of you – however unnecessary that may be-" he quickly added at Alex's scowl, "I would appreciate it if you would let me know if you needed to go out, and _not_ sneak out in the middle of the night."

Alex blushed slightly, but made no indication of agreement. He knew only too well he might have to do it again.

"_If _you are quite finished," snapped the agent, his patience having expired.

Alex scowled at him.

"Morning Crawley," he said, coldly.

"I need to know if you completed the mission," said Crawley, completely ignoring Alex's rather half-hearted attempt at courtesy.

"It's done," said Alex, deliberately turning his back on the man as he added milk and sugar to the coffee Jackal had passed him. From the half-curious, half-pissed expressions on the soldiers' faces, he assumed they wanted details, but he was really hoping he wouldn't be made to give them.

"I need more than that," said Crawley.

"What do you want to know?" asked Alex, scowling.

"What happened to the men?"

"What was intended to happen to them," snarled Alex.

"_Agent Rider_," snapped Crawley. "I do not care, that you didn't like this mission. I do not care that you want to angst over it and pretend it didn't happen. I do, however, care that you are acting like an immature _brat_. You did the mission. You know _why_ you did the mission and I will have the details _right now._"

"I figured the details would be classified," said Alex, quietly, carefully avoiding the curious eyes of Hawk and Jackal.

"Both Jackal and Hawk have signed the Official Secrets Act. Quit stalling."

"Stevens shot himself in the chin. His body should be found in the Thames in a couple of days. Jameson had a heart attack at his home in the early hours of the morning. Higham and Cole got in a fight last night and killed each other. Finnegan had a car crash about half an hour ago. His breaks malfunctioned."

Jackal and Hawk, who had started off looking vaguely confused now looked horrified as they pieced the puzzle together and realised exactly why Alex had snuck out the night before.

"And you are sure no one will realise the deaths are connected?"

"The gang will realise," said Alex. "I mean, what are the chances of their five commanders dying in the same night? But no one else. Only Higham and Cole were at all connected with criminals anyway, you told me. That's why I did those two together. There's nothing to link the other three together, in motive or method."

"Good work, Rider," said Crawley, rising to his feet as if to leave.

"The information?" asked Alex, jumping to his feet as well when Crawley didn't give any indication.

Crawley paused. "Of course," he said, after a moment's hesitation.

He set his briefcase on the table and unlocked it.

"I hardly need to tell you that the information must be destroyed once you have memorised it."

Alex nodded his understanding and took the file Crawley held out.

Quickly, Crawley relocked the briefcase and headed for the door as Alex flicked open the file.

His eyes scanned down. Basic information on the eight soldiers, their intended direction from the base, their handler for the mission, estimated time and location of disappearance and death. Nothing else.

Alex cursed.

"CRAWLEY!" he roared, launching himself into the hall after the agent. "Crawley, what the hell is the meaning of this? I could find out this information in the basic SAS records!"

Crawley smirked. "I'm afraid, since the… incident involving your removal from MI6, our relationship with the SAS has been rocky at best. This was all the information they were willing to give us."

"Fuck you," snarled Alex.

Crawley raised an eyebrow. "You've only yourself to blame, you realise. If you had never sought to leave us, we would have had no trouble gaining the information. Whatever happens to D-unit and K-Unit is entirely your fault."

Alex froze, staring at him in horror.

"Of course," continued Crawley. "I'm sure, if you were agree to help MI6 out a bit more, Mr Blunt would be amenable to trying more… persuasive tactics."

"I'm not an idiot," said Alex, coldly. "You didn't give me the information I needed first time. Why would you change your tactics now?"

"If you change your mind," said Crawley as he walked out, "You know where to find us."

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So, how mean is MI6? :( Poor Alex. Oh, and who saw that coming when Alex snuck out of the window? Review and tell me what you thought?**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Ok, so this update is dedicated to Empty Thoughts, who is currently being kept awake by Hurricane Sandy. Our thoughts are with you, and everyone else feeling the effects.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

"So let me get this straight," said Jackal. He was sitting at the table in the kitchen area, with Hawk beside him. Opposite them both sat Alex, staring into the rapidly cooling coffee he had been handed earlier to avoid looking at them.

"Last night, you snuck out of your window without letting us know."

Alex nodded.

"And the reason you did this was to assassinate five men."

Alex winced and nodded.

"And you did this on orders from MI6 so that you could get the information you needed to rescue your friends."

Alex nodded.

"And they _didn't give you the information._"

Briefly, he thought of speaking, of saying the sarcastic comment about MI6 being about as reliable as an inflatable dartboard, but thought better of it.

He nodded.

"I'm going to kill them," snarled Jackal.

Alex looked up in surprise.

"What?" he asked, nonplussed. He'd been expecting disgust at his actions, anger at sneaking out and not telling Jackal about the plan, not… this.

"What you did was hardly squeaky clean," explained Hawk, "But we're all used to serving our country. Occasionally, you need to kill someone. And although we're not used to assassinations, we _know_ we can rely on the people who send us on the missions. We trust them. MI6 however…"

"MI6 screwed you over," said Jackal bluntly. "When you were only trying to start a rescue mission that they should be helping, not hindering."

"The SAS don't exactly have good opinions of assassins, no matter who they work for," said Alex, dryly, draining his coffee.

"You're not an assassin Jag."

"Sure as hell feels like it," muttered Alex, standing to refill his cup.

Hawk and Jackal exchanged a glance, though they remained silent.

Privately, both were wondering how Jaguar felt they could possibly hold it against him when he was already holding it so badly against himself.

-o-O-o-

Alex spent the morning pouring over the information Crawley had so 'kindly' brought over. Absorbing everything he could from the meagre pages.

It was lunchtime when he gave up. He sank his head into his hands and sighed.

"Problems?" came Jackal's voice from the door. Alex mutely nodded, unsurprised by the soldier's presence, having heard him walking up to the door.

"Well, come have some lunch. You never know, the break might just help you."

"What are you, my mother?" muttered Alex, still not turning around.

"No, I wouldn't dream of taking Wolf's place," said Jackal, and Alex could hear the grin in his voice. Alex himself couldn't help but snort at the mental image invoked. "Now come and get something to eat. And… don't tell Wolf I said that."

"Oh, I don't know," said Alex, finally standing up and tidying up the table he had been working on. "What's it worth to you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of trying to bribe you Jag! I know you're _far_ too honourable for that. I guess it just depends on whether you want me to get turned into bolognaise or not."

Alex huffed.

"Spoilsport."

-o-O-o-

_Eagle glanced back, for once showing his nerves. Alex knew that his poker-face would slip into place as soon as the door was opened, but in front of his team-mate and Alex, he felt at ease enough to let this trace of feeling show. Wolf, ever emotionally stunted, clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly as Alex shot the apprehensive soldier a reassuring smile._

"_No matter what happens, we'll be right beside you," murmured the teen and was gifted with a tight smile in return. It didn't look natural on Eagle's usually-relaxed face, but Alex would take what he could get_

_Eagle knocked._

_The door was pulled quickly open, as if someone had been waiting for the knock._

"_Eric!" squealed a woman, launching herself at Eagle._

_Eagle caught her and stumbled slightly under her weight. "Hey, Nicky," he muttered, burying his head into her shoulder._

_She pulled back and slapped him._

"_What was that for?!" exclaimed the soldier._

"_Six _years_, Eric! Six YEARS without so much as a phone call! You _bastard!"

"_I'm sorry, ok!" exclaimed Eagle, shielding himself from another blow. "I just…"_

_He trailed off. He didn't really have an excuse after all. He had just needed distance from his parents, distance he would never have been able to get if he had kept in contact with Nicki._

"_I'm sorry," he said, in a quiet, sincere voice._

_Nicki pulled him into a tight hug. "I missed you."_

_She pulled back. "Come on in, all of you. Eric, you must introduce us."_

"_This is James. And Alex, his ward."_

"_I'm Nicky," said the woman, pressing a kiss to both of their cheeks. "It's a pleasure to meet you. How does Eric know you?"_

"_We work together," said Wolf, stiffly. He'd never been good with strangers._

"_Come in," said Nicki, finally moving out of the doorway and letting them into the hall. "Mum and Dad are in the dining room," she said, lowering her voice. "I'm cooking tonight. I figured you'd want somewhere to escape too if it became too much."_

_Eagle paled slightly and nodded._

_In the dining room, a middle-aged couple were sitting at the table, his hand gently holding hers, which appeared to have a death grip on him in return. They were whispering when they entered, but immediately broke off when the four entered._

"_Eric?" said the woman, rising from her chair as if she couldn't quite believe he was there._

_For a moment, there was awkward silence as she half-reached out towards her son, and Eagle failed to respond, before Nicky stepped forward._

"_Mum, Dad, this is James and Alex."_

"_I- It's a pleasure to meet you," said Mrs Wakefield, after only a moment's hesitation._

_Given that Wolf was glaring at her like she had been responsible for the death of his firstborn, Alex took it upon himself to answer._

"_Likewise, Mrs Wakefield," he said, smiling his most charming smile, and thanking any god he could think of for his acting skills._

"_So, Eric," said Nicky, "What are you doing at the moment? Still in the army?"_

"_Army?!" exclaimed Mrs Wakefield. "But isn't that dangerous?"_

"_No, it's a walk in the park," muttered Alex, sarcastically._

"_Yeah, I'm still in the army," replied Eagle, ignoring his mother. "Actually, I'm in the SAS. Passed selection two years ago."_

"_Congratulations!" said Nikki, ignoring her parents' shocked silence._

"_Yes, that's really impressive Eric. Your mother and I are really proud of you," said Mr Wakefield with a slightly strained smile. Eagle had always said that his main reason for originally joining the army had been to drive his parents wild. Apparently, he had guessed right in their reactions._

_Alex grinned at the slightly smug expression on Eagle's face, but the grin faltered as his father spoke again._

"_I thought they had psychological valuations, to enter the army?"_

"_They do," growled Wolf, the first words he had spoken of the night. "Eric passed them all first time around."_

_Mrs Wakefield paled dramatically. "Eric, I'm so sorry. We honestly just wanted what was best for you."_

_Eagle glared at her. "Bribing doctors to prescribe residential care was 'what was best for me'?"_

_Alex frowned, as Eagle's skin began to darken. This wasn't right. This wasn't what happened._

_He turned to glance at Wolf to see if he had noticed anything, only to be confronted with a severely beaten guardian, bruising mottling his face and his nose broken and bleeding._

_Alex screamed and span back to face Eagle, but that sight was even worse. His skin was pale and stiff. The back of his skull was missing and his hair was matted and dyed with blood. Maggots were festering in a wound on his neck._

_Alex stumbled back from the table, but everyone ignored him. Couldn't they see it? Why did no-one else seem to realise that Eagle was dead? What-?_

Alex awoke with a start to realise he was shaking all over. He didn't need to wonder where he was, or why, everything came crashing down on him immediately on waking. He wished he had had just those few moments of blissful ignorance, when he could freely wonder what had happened. Anything was better than this. _Eagle was_ _dead_.

"Fuck," muttered Alex, as he tried to calm himself down. His cheeks were wet, he realised with a start. He must have been crying in his sleep. He wondered how Nicky and Ellie had taken the news.

Had they even been told?

He'd have to check. He couldn't let them continue in ignorance. He hoped they had, but Eagle's file might not even have had them registered as next of kin. His relationship with his family had been non-existent for years, after all.

Slowly, he pulled himself up to a sitting position. Hawk, who as the team medic appeared to have taken charge of his health, had forced him to go to bed in the early afternoon to catch up on the night's sleep he had missed. Alex would have told him that sleep would only make it worse, but he hadn't had the heart to let the two know exactly how prone he was to nightmares. As a consequence, it was still light outside and he could see a vaguely-orange glow coming from behind the blind.

Throwing off the covers he stood up and slipped his jeans back on before heading to the main room.

"What time is it?" he asked.

Cougar and Otter were lounging in front of the TV, flicking idly through the day-time programming. It was Cougar who glanced up to answer.

"Just gone half two," he replied. "And Hawk said not to let you get up until at least three, so nice try. Back to bed."

"Not a chance," said Alex, grimly, before walking passed them into the kitchenette and fetching himself a glass of water.

"Look, Jag," said Cougar. "I'm not your guardian, I know, but this is Hawk, and he treats us all the same when he's worried about us. It's worth more than my life to let you disobey his orders."

"Where are they, anyway?" asked Alex, idly, as he took a sip of water.

"Gone to Credenhill," said Cougar. "They're trying to get some information from the higher-ups. And don't change the subject."

"They…" Alex trailed off staring at Cougar.

"They're going to get something," promised Otter. "I know you don't know Jackal all that well, but he's stubborn, tenacious. He will make a pest of himself until they chuck him out, or give him what he wants. And Hawk will back him up on this."

"I…"

"Relax," said Cougar, to the still shocked teenager. "It's taken care of. Go back to bed before Hawk finds out you're up and kills me."

Alex headed back to bed, leaving the two soldiers to watch him leave.

"They better be successful," said Otter quietly. "I don't think that boy is used to being helped much, and I'd hate for them to let him down."

"They won't," said Cougar. "I know they won't."

"I hope you're right."

-o-O-o-

"I didn't expect it to be that easy," muttered Hawk, biting his lip and eyeing the files in this lap in the same way one would a live viper.

"That was _easy_ to you?" asked Jackal incredulously, sparing his companion a quick glance as the car drew to a halt at a red light. "I don't think we use the same definition. We essentially bullied our way through to the General, then used a mix of emotional blackmail and logic so desperate it was barely coherent to get what we want. The _only_ reason you and I haven't been fired already is that they need this solved as badly as us!"

"But we got what we wanted," Hawk pointed out, as the car began to move forward again. "I didn't think we- Jackal! Look out!"

The screech of straining metal filled their ears and glass shards rained down on them. Hawk stayed conscious just long enough to feel the metal spear his shoulder. If he had been able to feel anything apart from the burning pain, it would have been failure, as calm, confident hands took the bloody files from his lap, and blue eyes coolly assessed the damage, before leaving them to their fate.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**So, review and tell me what you think? Reviews feed the plot bunny!**_

_**Now, I need to dash – I'm late for work!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: So look what's finally finished! I am so sorry about the wait, RL has been hell. I'm close to finishing a year-long internship, and with five or six weeks left, I am waking up every morning feeling sick with dread at the thought of going to work and knowing that I'm going to let people down simply because I have too much work to do. You're only getting this now because I got major writer's block on a presentation I'm meant to be working on for someone. (Yes. It's half nine at night and I'm still working. And tomorrow I'm heading in for eight o'clock because I stupidly decided that food [which I haven't actually managed to have yet] was more important than finishing the work I had left to do. I have one hour tomorrow morning to complete what should be at least three hours of work.)**_

_**Sorry about the rant. It's just really starting to get me down. But! I finish on the 3**__**rd**__** July. At that point I will be on holiday, not working any more than a part time job… I hope. Of course, I'll also have coursework still to do. (Did I mention I have coursework on top of 13 hour days? Why did I think this was a good idea?) and then I'm back at uni… where I will be working my ass off for the money and grades I need to do a masters.**_

_**Hopefully, it will be worth it. Hopefully, I won't die or have a mental breakdown in the process.**_

_**Two GINORMOUS hopefully's there, but we shall see. Now, onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Cougar sat at the kitchen table, tapping his foot. Across from him, Otter was reading a newspaper, pausing only occasionally to glare at him. He dealt with staying in one place a lot better than Cougar did, which was, admittedly, a little like saying he could out-walk a snake.

But still, they would not leave. It was perfectly obvious that Jaguar needed someone to keep an eye on him, to stop him running off and doing something ridiculous.

The doorbell rang.

Cougar eyed the door to the hall with distaste, remembering the decidedly slimy man who had come by earlier. Spies always made his skin itch.

"You reckon it's for Jag?" he asked.

"Only one way to find out," said Otter, looking at Cougar pointedly.

"Fine, fine," said Cougar. "If it's another spook I reserve the right to be as rude as I like."

"And that would be different from normal how exactly?" asked Otter, dryly.

Cougar flipped him off and went to answer the door,

It was most definitely not a spook. In the doorway stood the fattest man that Cougar had ever seen. As in, Cougar wasn't quite sure how his legs managed to support him, and even less sure that they man would fit through the doorway.

He blinked. "Can I help you?"

"Let me in, let me in," muttered the man, shooing Cougar back. "We don't have much time before someone notices I'm not in the café."

"What?" asked Cougar, scooting back more out of bewilderment than anything else. "Who are you?"

"I can't tell you that, old chap, sorry," said the man, stepping through the doorway and, Cougar noticed, brushing the sides slightly. "Now, where is Alex?"

Cougar decided that that, at least, could not go unchallenged and drew his gun. "Who are you and why are you looking for Alex?"

The man eyed him testily. "Didn't you just hear me say that I can't tell you that? Honestly, why does nobody listen these days? Now, put that away. I'm here to help him, so go and tell him that I'm here."

"And how am I supposed to do that without a name?" asked Cougar.

The man sighed. "Oh very well, if you must, tell him it's Smithers."

Cougar eyed him again, then called over his shoulder.

"Otter! Tell Jag that someone called 'Smithers' is here to see him. If he doesn't know him, I'm putting a bullet in his leg."

There was a curse from the snug.

"Do NOT shoot him!" exclaimed Jaguar, bursting out of the small room and running into the hall.

"I thought we told you to go back to sleep?" growled Otter, chasing after the teen.

Jaguar rolled his eyes. "Yes, and I'm so good at doing what I'm told."

"Alex, my boy, good to see you. Boarding school obviously agrees with you."

"Come through to the kitchen, Smithers," grinned Jaguar. "I'm sure you'll want to lay out whatever is in that bag."

Cougar's eyes immediately zeroed in on the bad half-obscured by the man's bulk. Why had he missed that? He was a trained soldier, for Christ's sake.

"Sorry about the trigger happy soldiers," said Alex as he led the group into the kitchen. "I'm sure they'll make you a cup of tea as an apology," he added, with a glare at the soldier in question.

Cougar shivered as the hard gaze landed on him, and began to move towards the kettle.

"How do you take it?" he asked. He was just being polite. He was definitely _not_ intimidated by Jaguar.

"White, two sugars," said Smithers. "And Alex, stop glaring at them. Honestly, I'm glad you've got someone so protective to look after you."

"Not you as well!" moaned Alex. "I should take up chicken farming with the number of mother hens that I seem to collect."

"You're a child in an adults world," said Otter, gruffly. "We allow that you are talented enough and determined enough to be there, and we acknowledge that you're not a little kid, but you are still a child. It's normal for us to protect you. Any other child in your situation would expect it."

"Any other child in my situation?" queried Alex with a raised eyebrow. "How many children do you know who managed to join the SAS?"

"Okay, fine. Any child whose family is missing and who has been through hell. Is that general enough for you?" asked Otter, with a scowl.

"I'm getting them back," said Alex, stiffly. "I won't be alone for long. And then you can stop worrying about me."

"Stop…? Oh for fuck's sake," growled Otter. "I'm heading upstairs. You're impossible!"

Alex stared after him, confused. "I have no idea what I did there," he admitted.

"That's because you're decidedly strange," said Cougar, placing the tea down on the table. He'd also made one for Alex. "Do you want me here or do you want me to leave?"

"Not to sound ungrateful, but I think it would be easier if you left," admitted Alex.

"You try anything, mate, and you'll be dead before you can make the door."

Cougar gave the man one last glare then left the room.

"Sorry about them," muttered Alex.

Smithers smiled "Not at all, Alex my boy. We've been over this already, haven't we? I cannot fault them for wanting to protect you."

Alex sipped his tea. It was too sweet, but he'd deal. It would have worried him if Cougar had known how he took his tea, if he was honest.

"Not that I'm not always glad to see you, Smithers, but I assume there was a reason you're here?"

"There is. First of all, I want to give you this," said Smithers, withdrawing a file from the briefcase at his side.

"What is it?" asked Alex, pulling over the manila folder and opening it.

"This is what Jones had pulled from the SAS database – they wouldn't hand over any information to her, so she had some of my team hack into them and take it. She was very worried that she hadn't known about the mission. The SAS have been giving a semblance of co-operating with us, but in reality they have been giving us minimal information and not telling us anything they don't think we need to know."

"So treating you exactly how you treat them?" asked Alex snidely, and Smithers grimaced.

"Pretty much," he admitted. "Even your friend Daniels is on their side, at the moment. The man is an employee of MI6 but he feeds everything back to the SAS. We're at a severe disadvantage. But enough about inter-departmental politics. Jones doesn't want you to have this file, Alex. And she cannot know that you have it, do you understand? She pulled it after they made the deal with you, but changed her mind when she saw what it contained."

"She won't find out," promised Alex, with a grin.

"I'm serious, Alex. This could _ruin_ MI6 – and Jones personally. If she finds out you have it, she will do _anything_ to get it back. And I will probably find myself without a job, but that's beside the point. She will _kill_ you if she must."

Alex blinked. "But, she's one of the good guys, right?" he asked. "She's on our side, over all?"

Smithers shook his head. "She will do what is best for her, and her department above all else," said the large man. "After the scandal with you, MI6 is hanging on by a thread. The government might close it down entirely and absorb what is really necessary into the SAS and MI5. Or they might yank it from her and put someone else in charge, which she will _not_ allow to happen."

"What about Blunt?" asked Alex. "Where is he in all of this?"

"He retired shortly after the SAS spirited you away. He thought it was better than being forced out, I believe. He took enough responsibility to let Jones take over his role although it's only by the skin of her teeth that she succeeded."

"Thank you for this," said Alex, closing the file and moving it to the side.

"Don't thank me yet," said Smithers. "There is a lot in here, for you, and I don't have time to explain it all to you. But there is an instruction manual. You can thank me when it brings you home alive."

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So yeah, no update on the two in the car, I'm afraid, or on K- and D- Unit, but Smithers showed up! That has to be at least a small 'yay' right?**_

_**Oh! I started a new story, by the way. Yes, I know I should have been concentrating on this, but writers block struck due to too much stress and I needed to write something I had immediate inspiration for. It's a Supernatural story, and I'm finding it hard to tell if it's any good because I've not really had many reviews. If there are any SPN fans around, feel like letting me know? (If you say I cannot for the life of me write Sam and Dean, I promise I'll take it down.)**_

_**Sorry, shameless plug over.**_

_**Review and tell me what you thought of this? Also, how should Alex get to… wherever he will be looking for D- and K-Unit? Sea Turtles?**_

_**I love you all, and thanks for sticking with me.**_

_**Oddx**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: I think I may actually be going insane. Yesterday, I found myself trying to explain to my boyfriend what a Shakey day was and it only just occurred to me that not everyone has Shakey days. Guess it's just one more thing to make me Odd! But, it did inspire me to post this chapter – just so you could have an update before the men in white coats come to take me away._**

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise._**

-o-O-o-

Alex waved Smithers out of the door and went back to the kitchen.

He efficiently whisked the abandoned mugs of tea from the table to the sink and went to store the briefcase and file in the Snug, his thoughts racing.

Something was obviously going very, very wrong at MI6, and if Alex was right, Smithers had only scratched the tip of the iceberg.

Alan Blunt had supposedly retired. In public, Alex was sure that was true. Smithers wouldn't lie to him of his own volition, and neither Blunt nor Jones were idiotic enough to try and tell him that Blunt didn't work there when he had had a meeting with the man.

So, Smithers, one of the key players at MI6 thought that the man had left.

Crowley, Blunt's lackey, knew otherwise, and would probably have a great deal more information, but how to get it from him?

Interrogation would get him nowhere without… indecent motivation, which he refused to use, and he doubted he would be able to capture Crawley anyway – not without drawing suspicion certainly.

Hacking wouldn't work. Nothing was hidden from Smithers on the network at MI6. If he hadn't found it, it wasn't there. And he obviously hadn't found it.

Perhaps, he was best off trying to work out why Blunt had/had not retired.

It could simply be that he had destroyed his reputation so thoroughly that he had been forced to retire – which had sounded like the case – then why hadn't he retired in truth? He was obviously getting on in life – and not just for a spy. Alex would have thought that the man would be looking forward to sometime with the fate of the world not hanging in the balance. God knows, that was how Alex had felt when he went back to school. Why would he want to run MI6 through Jones like a puppet master?

And if Blunt was the puppet master, did that make Jones little more than a puppet?

Alex blinked at the thought, then frowned as he realised he was holding a cloth in one hand and a bottle of disinfectant in the other. Cleaning had always helped him organise his thoughts, but he seldom started doing it subconsciously. He surveyed his handiwork with a critical eye. The kitchen had not been exactly dirty to start with, but there was a definite improvement. He doubted that F-Unit would complain, anyway.

Sighing, he stowed the bottle and cloth under the sink and turned to lean against the counter. That lasted barely two seconds before he began pacing.

What he was sorely lacking was information. Some of it would be in the file Smither's had brought over and more between the lines information would be available from whatever Hawk and Jackal managed to obtain, but he doubted that that would be enough. If this was related to the reason K-Unit and D-Unit had disappeared, the reason Eagle had died, then he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Christ! This was getting him nowhere. He could find out more just walking up to Jones and asking her.

Alex stopped dead. It couldn't be that simple, could it?

-o-O-o-

The call had come in half an hour ago. Two wrecked cars at a traffic light, only one with people in. John couldn't quite let that part go. The car had to have had a driver, but whoever it was had vanished without a trace. He shook his head. He was well known for his like of conspiracy theories, but he wasn't here to play at being a cop.

The ambulance stopped and John leapt out, his partner, Sarah, at his side. Ahead of him Gerry and Kyle were already checking the pulse of the driver, so he ran to the passenger side. A soldier, in dress uniform, was passed out in the seat. Blood was staining his front and his skin was pale, but there was no immediately obvious wound. He couldn't say whether that was a good or bad thing.

"Sir, can you hear me?" shouted Sarah, but there was no response.

"He's got a pulse," said John, calmly, being careful not cut himself on the shattered glass of the window. "No response to pain," he added, pinching the man's ear. "Can we get this bloody door off, yet?"

On the far side of the car, Gerry and Kyle had already opened the driver's door, and pulled the man out. From the look of it, he had a fairly serious head injury, and some nasty burns from the airbag, but it could have been a whole lot worse. The airbag on the passenger side had failed to deploy, and he could move the soldier until he knew if there was a neck injury. Which he couldn't do with a useless, twisted sheet of metal blocking his way.

"I'll go around," muttered Sarah, and disappeared from his back.

Moments later, she appeared on the other side of the soldier, skilled hands running down his neck and over joints.

"I'm not sure about his ribs," she said, "And something has happened to his shoulder. His nose is broken – I think that's the blood. But his neck it fine. We can move him."

"Kyle! Get over here, we need a hand!" hollered Sarah. She reached over and unclipped the seat belt as John used his elbow to push the rest of the glass through the window.

"Yours good to go?" he asked, as Kyle appeared at his shoulder.

"Let's just worry about yours," said Kyle, as Sarah began to lift his hips.

With synchronicity born of months working together, Kyle and John slid the soldier gently through the window and lowered him to the ground.

"Right," said Kyle. "We better get them both to the hospital. I'll see you there, mate."

Kyle dashed back to his ambulance, and Sarah helped John slide the soldier onto a stretcher and lift him up. As the ambulance doors closed, John cast one dark look at the side of the car, and the fender imprint there. No way had this been an accident.

-o-O-o-

The moment following Alex's bombshell was shattered by the ringing of a phone, with Cougar following quickly on it's heels to answer it. He cast an appraising eye at the kitchen, raised an eyebrow at Alex, then picked up.

"Yes? What? Yes, of course. We'll be right there."

He hung up.

"That was the hospital," he explained. "Hawk and Jackal were in a car accident. I'll go and get Hawk. We need to head get there. Are you...?"

"I'll come with you," sad Alex, firmly, hoping the tone would hide the ice sinking into his stomach.

"Good," said Cougar, scraping a hand through his hair. "That's good. Get a coat and we'll go."

-o-O-o-

At the hospital, Alex hung back while Cougar and Otter went in to see their teammates. It wasn't that he wasn't close to them - he was; he'd trained with them after all, and when they found him alive when sent to retrieve his body from the bottom of the ledges, it had only made them closer - but he still wasn't part of their unit. And unit was family.

Instead, he waited outside the door, his back and one foot pressed casually against the wall, and his eyes scanning the corridor.

He would not blame himself for this. He wanted to, but they had made a choice to help. He would not take that right away from them by blaming himself.

But there was still no way this was an accident. It was too convenient.

He looked up as he heard someone approaching.

A policeman stood there, watching him.

"Don't go in yet," said Alex, quietly. "Not if you want anything useful. Cougar and Otter will be really over protective and aggressive and Hawk and Jackal are in no state to answer anyway."

"Would you care to answer some questions, then, son?"

Alex shrugged. "Erm, sure, I guess. I don't really know that much though."

"Good lad," smiled the police officer. "I think that room is empty, shall we talk in there?"

Alex frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the men in the room behind him.

"Why do we have to go anywhere?" he asked, warily.

"I just don't want anyone to interrupt us when we talk, Alex. No need to worry."

"I thought it was only a few questions? Wait... How do you know my name?"

Something in the man's face flickered and Alex edged away from him and pushed off the wall.

"I think I'd like to see some ID, now," he said quietly.

The man sighed.

"You just had to go and be suspicious, didn't you, Rider? Come with me into this nice empty room and no one has to get hurt."

"No way in hell," snapped Alex.

The man sighed again and drew a gun.

"Now, Rider. Unless you want me to start shooting the nurses."

-o-O-o-

**_A/N: See? I'm not mean enough to kill off those two so soon! _**

**_Please review! Feed the starving author!_**


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: Hi! I bet you're all surprised, huh? Well, you'll be pleased to know that I've started writing on the commute to and from work. So, failure to sleep tonight led to me posting this. Also, in the last week I discovered that the apparent cut off point to separate a novel from a novella is 40,000 words. I was… surprised, to say the least, when I looked at the word counts of my stories._**

**_Also, I think Alex might be a little all over the place in this – any recommendations for improvements are welcome, as I might rework the chapter slightly to make it run more smoothly. Obviously, the plot would stay the same._**

**_DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything you recognise._**

**_Edit: em meant to post this last night, but for some reason the site wouldn't let me. Hopefully it's all fixed now. _**

-o-O-o-

Alex looked at the man carefully. He was not showing any of the usual signs of being a raving maniac in fact, most of his actions had been well thought out. And he apparently wasn't trying to take Alex far - it would have been easy enough to make Alex walk out of the hospital at gun point, but he had still mentioned the room. Alex was undeniably curious.

"No need to go and overreact like that," the teen huffed, striding into the room as if it had been his idea all along. An amused chuckle behind him let him know that the man was following him.

Once inside, the man closed the door and stuck a chair under the handle.

"If I put the gun away are you going to try and get away?"

"That depends," answered Alex. "Are you going to give me a reason to want to?"

"Not if you answer my questions," said the man, pushing the gun back into its holster.

"Let's hear them then," said Alex, with a put upon sigh.

"What can you tell me about Yassen Gregorovich?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "He died about two years ago on Air Force one."

"Don't lie to me, Rider."

"I'm not lying! Why would I lie?" exclaimed Alex. "You've got a bloody gun and he's the bloody assassin who threw me to the bulls!"

The man paused. "Surely you meant wolves?"

"I said bulls, I meant bulls, now let me the fuck out of here."

"Not until you tell me the truth. I don't know why you're loyal to him, but you better start talking before it goes very badly for you, Rider."

Alex sneered. "I've been tortured before."

"I know."

Oh shit, how the fuck did he know? Who was this guy?

"But the thing about torture, Alex, is that it's not something you can get used to. You can't get _used_ to someone making you scream and cry and beg simply to get what they want. How long did it take you to break last time? I know you did. How many times did you feel the knife tear into your flesh?"

_Metal dug into him every time he jerked away from the knife against his back._

"How many cigarettes burnt their marks in your skin?"

_Not cigarettes. He wished it was cigarettes. He could feel the iron melting into his skin. It _hurt._ Couldn't stop screaming. Oh god it _hurt_._

The man paused. "Or did they go the other route? Did they stroke you and touch you and hurt you so bad that you wished they had simply cut the skin off instead of doing _that_?"

There was movement, and then the cold blade of a knife against his cheek and warm breath on his ear.

"So tell me, Alex," whispered the man, sickeningly close, "Are you going to answer my questions?"

Alex lost it.

Whatever the man was expecting, it wasn't Alex's forehead connecting - hard - with his nose. There was a sharp _crack_ as it broke and the man fell back, cursing.

"Fuck you," snarled Alex and leapt at the man.

The fight was swift, short and brutal. The man was good, obviously a professional, but Alex was enraged and had lost _none_ of his edge.

The world became a blur of movement. His hands closed around the man's throat, pressing on his jugular but a fist to his ribs and a knee to his hip threw him off and he rolled away, only to come back up beneath the man's guard a moment and deliver several swift blows to the man's face when his arm was grabbed and _wrenched_ sideways. Alex fell back to regain his bearings, and the man launched himself out of the first floor window, just as the door gave way and two angry soldiers fell into the room.

"Jaguar!" exclaimed Otter. "What the hell happened?"

Alex sighed. He was wondering that himself.

-o-O-o-

Ten minutes later, he was sitting in the room with Hawk and Jackal as the nurses fussed over him.

The cut on his face from the knife had been disinfected and had butterfly strips holding it together - just two stitches at the top, despite the copious amount of blood that had covered his face. His ribs had been wrapped - he wasn't sure they were even broken - and his recently relocated elbow was sitting in a sling.

Alex thought it was overkill, but had refrained from saying so under the reproachful eyes of Dr Cranmer - who had dealt with Alex's bullet wound and scared Alex more than any three SAS medics combined.

For a start, he had gone through with the threat to tie Alex to the bed by his foot and confiscate the TV remote unless he promised to behave. Three hours with the TV stuck on the most annoying child's TV channel had successfully broken Alex's spirit and the doc had never had a problem again. Except, of course, the slight issue of Force Three. Alex still shuddered and the thought if the lecture he'd received after he had returned from Australia.

Thankfully, the man had yet to clock that he had joined the army less than a month later.

"Gull should take lessons," commented Hawk, from the bed, and the rest of the unit snickered.

"Jaguar, what _happened_?" asked Jackal softly, after a moment.

"Thought he was a policeman," said Alex, "But I got suspicious quickly enough. When I asked to see ID he drew a gun and threatened to start shooting civilians unless I cooperated."

He paused and thought back. "It was weird. He wanted information, but he didn't seem to actually want to hurt me." Dr Cranmer, still stood in the corner, gave a disbelieving snort, but Alex ignored him.

"He was trying to get me to talk by bringing up what he could do and what- what had happened before."

Alex swallowed and shook his head.

"What do you mean, what happened before?" asked the doctor, his voice deadly quiet.

Alex shrugged.

"Alex," said the Doctor warningly. "We've been through this. You don't evade my questions when it concerns your health. What. Happened?"

Alex glanced at the soldiers and pursed his lips. He'd been _fine_. It had only ever bothered him in nightmares. He was _dealing_. He didn't want to talk about it and he _definitely_ didn't want the soldiers to hear about it.

"Come on, son," said Dr Cranmer, resting a heavy hand on the shoulder of Alex's uninjured arm. "Let's go to my office, hmm?"

Immediately, Otter stood. "I'm coming with you," he said.

When Alex glared at him, he relented slightly. "I won't come in," he said, "but we're not leaving you alone when your opponent could still be around."

"I'll be fine," said Alex, through gritted teeth. "You wouldn't have thought anything of it before you discovered my age."

"That's because when you were in the SAS, your unit would have made sure you weren't alone - the same as you would have done for one of them. But now, they're gone, and we look after our own," said Jackal, quietly from the bed.

"Now that that's decided!" said the doctor briskly. "Come on, Alex. And you two," he said, turning to Jackal and Hawk, "had better be resting when I get back. Internal injuries are nothing to mess about with. In fact! Cougar, was it? You can wait outside the door."

The trio followed in the doctor's wake, leaving the two injured soldiers alone.

"I suddenly see why Jaguar didn't object," said Hawk with a smirk. "The man's a force of nature."

"Yeah," said Jackal. "And I am going to sleep now, before he does whatever it was that he did to Jaguar - I bet he would take on an earthquake, if given the chance. I doubt he'd behave for a doctor without some _serious_ persuasion."

-o-O-o-

Alex stared dully at the can of coke in his hand. Dr Cranmer had started stocking it soon after he met his youngest regular.

"What do you want to know?" asked Alex, hoarsely.

"Well, why don't we start with when, and we can move on to what and why afterwards."

"About 7 months ago," said Alex. "MI6 sent me on a mission, but it was a set up. They wanted information on a prisoner, and thought I would know."

"He..."

He paused and looked up at the man. "Why are you making me _tell_ you?" he demanded. "You _know_ what they did!"

Cranmer did know. That wasn't the point. The point was that Alex had seen more than any man - let alone a child - should see. The point was that Alex refused to see a therapist. The point was that Cranmer could _help_.

He may not have told Alex any of that.

"I have a vague idea," he said. "That won't be enough to treat you."

"I've already healed!" protested Alex, and the doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," muttered Alex, taking a drink to delay the inevitable.

"His... His favourite was this... Cross. Not like crucifixion or anything, just these two rough wooden planks nailed together so they could attach a limb to each corner. I hated that thing. There were nails sticking out all over the place. He'd take a knife or whip or hot iron to my back and if I tried to move away..."

Alex swallowed. "He loved making me hurt myself. Once, he hung me from these cuffs, and placed a metal barrel at my feet, then lit a fire underneath it. I could shred my wrists or burn my feet. I chose wrists. I thought I'd need my feet to escape. I made the wrong choice. My strength gave out and I ended up burning my feet anyway."

By now, Alex sounded almost robotic, but even now, Cranmer knew that the boy was at least facing it, not locking it away to fester. The boy fell silent and looked down at the gently fizzing drink in his hands. Cranmer waited patiently.

"I started to rationalise it. I couldn't control my situation, but I could control which pain it was. But then he changed the game. Kept asking if I enjoyed it, and that was why I hadn't told him anything. Christ."

Cranmer realised that tears were welling up in the kid's eyes, but affected not to notice. The kid deserved that much.

"I didn't enjoy it," said Alex, woodenly.

"I know," said Cranmer, soothingly.

"I broke," said Alex. "Rescue was right at the end of the hall - I could hear them, I think, but I broke, when I should have been strongest. He threatened to take my eye. He threatened to-" he choked and looked down again.

"He threatened to rape me," he continued, so quietly Cranmer could barely hear and, once he did, could barely avoid flinching. "But it wasn't that. Not really. I knew that if he got what he wanted, he'd kill me. I- I didn't want them to see me like that. They could stop him and I... I could let them, and not have to deal with it all anymore."

"And now?" asked Cranmer, cautiously.

"It was just the captivity talking," said Alex, flatly. "I realise as soon as he actually went to kill me what it really meant. I've always been a survivor and I wasn't about to let him change that."

"Did you ever talk to any of your unit about this?"

"Wolf tried, once," said Alex, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly. "I've never seen him look uncomfortable - and I've kicked him out of a plane before now. He didn't really know how to handle it... Unlike you. _Right, doctor_?"

The last sentence was practically snarled at him, and Cranmer knew the ruse was up. Alex Rider drugged up and at the end of a mission was a very different creature to the intelligent and wary boy sitting in front of him.

"Let me check you over, at least, before you bolt," he said calmly.

"You saw them all when you wrapped my ribs for no good reason," snapped Alex. "We would have been here half an hour ago if you had seen anything wrong."

"I'd still like to check."

Alex growled, then snapped out a reluctant 'fine' and took off his shirt.

Cranmer carefully inspected the large white scar between the teen's ribs and thanked whoever was listening that it hadn't been on the other side and closer to the heart. His back was a mess, over the cross hatching of knife wounds that he'd stitched up last time, there were burn marks and whip marks and cuts that he couldn't quite name. But, they were all white and well healed and quite a few would probably fade away altogether given a few years.

He might talk to him about potentially getting some surgery to cover them, at some point, although not today. He needed Alex to calm down before the teen would even consider talking to him.

One thin white scar trailed up the back of his neck and Cranmer carefully followed it with his fingers. He didn't mess around with the spinal cord.

He lifted Alex's hair out of the way - it was longer now than it had been previously, he noted: less military and more teen-appropriate - and ran his fingers over the top of the scar.

There was a small bump, and he frowned, running his finger back over it.

"There's something here," he said, after a moment. "It's tiny - probably something that happened during surgery, or a small extra lump of scar tissue, but I'd like to take a closer look at it, if that's okay with you?"

"Like you're actually giving me a choice," growled Alex, under his breath. "Fine, do whatever you think is best."

"What's that?" asked Alex suspiciously as the doctor tool a black stick from his desk draw.

"It's the latest ultrasound wand," said the doctor. "Wireless and feeds directly to the computer. I've been asked to test them for the hospital."

"Is it bad that I find that kind of cool?" asked Alex.

"It means you spend far too much time in hospitals," commented the doctor with a raised eyebrow. "The gel is going to be a little cold, now, Alex."

"Just get on with it," sighed Alex. "I think I can handle some chilly gel."

The longer hair was getting in the way a little now, the gel clumping the ends together and blocking his sight until Alex huffed and reached around to pull it up against his scalp.

"Thanks," muttered the doctor, spinning the computer screen around and turning on the wand. "Here we go."

"Well, that's strange," he muttered after a moment.

"What's strange?" asked Alex, slightly worried.

"It's not scar tissue," said the doctor. "It could be bone, but if I had to place money on it, I'd say that it was made of metal."

-o-O-o-

**_A/N: Just in case any of you were wondering, no, I have no idea what is happening any more. My muse just keeps popping up in my head saying things like 'hey, that would be cool' and 'you can't let him get the file _****that****_ easily, surely?' and 'you _****did want****_ Yassen in this remember?'._**

**_And now two completely new characters have sprung out of thin air and one may turn out to be a plot convenience, but I'm fairly sure that whoever is looking for Yassen is pretty important and atm, I have no idea why!_**

**Anyway, please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Erm... Hi. No, I'm not dead. I am in my final year of uni, so I think I'd rather be dead, but still. Not dead, so probably no good excuse. On the other hand, inspiration hit last night, maybe the night before, and I now have this entire story planned out. Considering that I had no idea what was going on at all, this is quite an achievement.**_

_**Upshot, I have a new chapter for you. Whether or not this is related to my pressing need to revise (read: learn) my modules, and/or my new laptop (She is shiny and sleek and isn't falling to pieces. The screen on my old laptop literally fell off the keyboard. There was one wire holding it together.)**_

_**But anyway. Enjoy...**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognize.**_

-o-O-o-

Dr Cranmer didn't look up as a cotton ball swabbed against his brow. The surgery was simple, but close enough to the cervical spinal nerves that he didn't want to risk any distraction.

He made the incision and carefully reached in with the tweezers. A quick x-ray had revealed a small triangle of metal at the top of one of the cuts, and chances were that it was the tip of a knife, given how the kid had said he had received the cut. That should make it easy to remove, but he didn't want to risk further injury when removing it.

Making sure his grip was good, he slowly drew it out.

It wasn't a knife blade. It wasn't even a triangle. Instead, he dropped a small cone of metal into the tray.

He frowned at it, then began to close up. Maybe Alex would know what it was.

-o-O-o-

Alex hated anaesthetic. He'd tried to persuade the doctor that a local would be enough, but the man had said something about immobilisation and involuntary movement and had insisted on the general anaesthetic. Privately, Alex thought the man had just wanted an excuse to keep him in hospital, under his watchful eye.

He scowled and tried to force the desire to sleep back. He wasn't going to stay here for longer than it took to talk to Dr Cranmer.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, thought Alex, as Dr Cranmer appeared at his door.

"It went okay?" the teen asked.

"The surgery went fine," commented Dr Cranmer. "But I was hoping you could identify something for me."

He held out a small metal dish and Alex, curious as always, took it. Inside was a small conical piece of metal. It could easily have been the end of a needle, albeit one slightly thicker than normal.

Cautiously, he picked it up. "This was inside me?" he asked, throwing a questioning glance at Cranmer, who nodded. "Well, it's too well designed to be accidental," he commented. "This could simply have been injected - although I imagine it would be rather painful. They must have utilised a sleeping agent."

He shivered at the thought. Someone had been there while he _slept_ and he'd never known about it.

"As to what it's for... It could be anything. I know you can get implants to release hormones and affect brain function, or to release poison on command..."

"And you think these are likely?" asked Cranmer, worriedly. He would get a blood panel done.

But Alex shook his head. "No. If someone wanted me dead, or wanted to control me, there are more efficient ways. I think it's a tracker. I need to get out of here."

-o-O-o-

The argument with the doctor had been predictable, but this time Alex had the winning card. No matter how Cranmer or the soldiers span it, the fact remained that someone, most likely with malicious intentions, knew exactly where he was.

He's already linked it to the man who had tracked him here and pointed out that it was unlikely to be over nothing.

And so that led to him climbing through the window of F-Unit's house alone. In the end, he'd given them the slip. He was fairly sure they knew he would head back here, but he may have given the impression that he would stay here.

He wasn't planning on it. Instead, he slipped over to the case that Smithers had left and pulled it open. Inside, was a small, lightweight backpack, which, in various hidden compartments, apparently had a first aid kit, fake IDs, a rather large sum of money, a kit to allow him to disguise himself as pretty much anyone he felt like and, Smithers' Pièce de resistance, a hidden parachute, set to support his weight.

Alex couldn't help but grin and shoved into the main compartment a pack of boiled sweets, two flavours of chewing gum, a length of rope and an inhaler, along with the manual explaining how to use them.

Left in the bag was, well, Alex would have to call it a ninja-suit, no matter how ridiculous it made him feel. There were shoes _(cushioned heel and un-cushioned toe, perfect for running and climbing),_ gloves (_definitely something weird about the fabric there, but he could work that out later)_, glasses _(He'd look like a douche walking around in sunglasses all the time. Not exactly easy to blend in with. Oh, apparently they adjusted to the light. Cool.)_, and a full one piece suit that Alex couldn't name the material of but would bet anything he owned that it was bullet proof.

He pulled on the clothes and eyed the glasses dubiously. What if they fell off if he began running? Finally, he shrugged and slipped them on. Surely Smithers would have thought of that?

Apparently, he had, because they felt as secure as any goggles, and after a moment the room lit up in an eerie green that Alex recognised as night-vision.

"I have no idea what you expect me to do with all this, Smithers," he whispered to the empty room, "But man, this is awesome."

He eyed the half empty backpack, before sliding in a change of clothes. Ninja suits were cool, but not exactly inconspicuous in a city in broad daylight.

And okay, maybe he had a slightly warped idea of what was cool, but he was hardly going to turn down something that could save his life.

He eyed the door behind him, then shook his head and grinned. What sort of self-respecting ninja left by the door?

-o-O-o-

He was trying to read. This file did _not_ have all the information he required, and so he was forced to piece together what was there and what he had managed to glean from other sources. Bach's Cello Suite has just started playing, and was enough to block out the noise from the street, although he had alarms on the corridor. Anything less would be unconscionably careless.

But the subject of alarms brought him back around to what had been distracting him. An alarm had been triggered earlier, by the removal of a tracking device in someone he wanted to keep a particularly close eye on.

He had chosen this flat deliberately, for its proximity to the place where the target had been most in the last twenty-four hours. The true owner was passed out behind a pub somewhere a few streets away. Given that he often drank there, he would no doubt invent his own reasons for being there. The man did not like leaving a trail if at all possible, and no trail would be more likely to be followed than one of bodies.

He frowned and glanced out of the window again. He could see the house from here. He may have more luck studying the file if he moved location, he mused briefly, before once again scanning the street, just in time to see a figure slide out of a window. Oh. Well. That was... oddly convenient. For him at any rate.

-o-O-o-

Okay, decided Alex after twenty minutes. This? This was more than awesome. This was… insane. He'd discovered that if he twisted his wrists like _so_ and spread his arms out, some sort of membrane would hook onto him and give him temporary wings. He couldn't fly, but he could glide a metre or two, like in a wing suit. And the twist _back_ and release and tumble down and roll and spring up again and run and run and run.

He hadn't felt this alive without someone shooting at him since, well, ever, really. The glasses picked up people and danger zones and pointed out unstable ground and, hell, even had GPS, apparently, given the soft voice in his ear that had asked him if he would like to use the navigation function. A quick shake of the head had helped get rid of that. He knew where he was going.

He popped out of his latest roll and paused on the edge of the building, looking at the three story town-house, now converted to flats, opposite him. Suddenly, he really didn't want to do this.

It must be too late, surely? It had been dark when he got back to the house. It must be close to midnight now.

But he couldn't justify waiting until morning. Not with this sort of news.

With a sigh, he dropped off the roof and used the gliders to control his fall onto the fire escape below.

-o-O-o-

_The sun was hot, and Nicki frowned irritably as her fringe drooped into her eyes, blowing futilely at the sweaty locks. She was in a tree, partially hidden from the sun and from her brother, who would probably love to soak her, and the book she was reading, with the hose he was messing about with._

_The dog was barking, loudly, as Eric rassled with him and she wanted to be irritated, but couldn't help the smile that caught the edge of her lips._

_Ellie was giggling though, she had picked daisies from the lawn and made a chain out of them. The toddler was trying to get it to rest on the dog's head, but he kept shaking them off._

_The woodpecker was drilling again, she thought, a steady tap-tap-tap on the edge of her hearing. She frowned, trying to catch the sound, focusing and listening._

She snapped awake, the dream replaying in her head and making her smile. It was a shame that Eric hadn't been around as much when Ellie was young, he had always been great with kids. But he'd been making more of an effort, recently. Maybe he could help with Ellie's birthday. It was only a month or so away, now.

The tap-tap from her dream came again, and she finally recognised it. Someone was tapping on her window.

She frowned, and glanced at the clock. Half twelve. She had probably only been asleep an hour, but it was still too late for someone to be calling on her, and why were they at her _window_ anyway?

She scowled and threw off the covers, slipping on a robe as she crossed to the window.

"Alex?" she gasped, as she tugged back the curtains. How was the boy balancing on her windowsill exactly?

Quickly, she opened the window and he climbed through.

"What on earth were you thinking?"she scolded. "What if you had fallen off? How did you even climb up that high?"

Alex shrugged and stayed silent. A shred of foreboding trickled down Nicki's spine.#

"Alex, why are you here?" she asked softly.

"It's about Eagle," murmured Alex, sadly. "I'm sorry, there's been some bad news."

-o-O-o-

The conversation had not been pleasant and Alex was grateful to swap the claustrophobic room for the London streets. He had felt even worse leaving, so after Nicki had cried herself to sleep, he had waited until she woke up. Thankfully, that had actually been around 2AM, at which point she had thanked him for staying and then directed him to the window.

Crossing to the fire-escape again, he quietly climbed the metal steps. He checked the rooftop was empty, then glanced once more at Nicki's now-closed window.

A hand closed over his face and pressed a cloth to his nose and mouth. Alex chocked and shouted against it, trying to buck away from the iron-like arm that was gripping his arms and torso. He barely had time to try to fight back, before blackness claimed his vision.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: Alex seems to be making a habit of being abducted at the moment. Hopefully he'll get over that soon. What do you think of the suit, by the way? I wanted to give Alex something completely over the top that wouldn't necessarily give him a huge advantage. (Plus, I really want one of these suits! Or the Falcon wings from Captain America. I fully plan on developing them. How, I am less sure about.)**_

_**Anyway, review and let me know what you thought? I have an exam on the 21st and the 5th, but will try to update after that - assuming you all still want me to?**_

_**Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!**_

_**Oddx**_


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